


The 10 Rules of Anne and Gilbert's Fake Relationship

by anexistence



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fake Dating, Underage Drinking, fake dating au, tatbilb inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anexistence/pseuds/anexistence
Summary: She’s kissing Gilbert Blythe, who is surprisingly eagerly kissing her back.Ew, she’s kissing Gilbert Blythe.Anne pulls away, and masks her horror by smiling sweetly up at him. He has that warm yet bemused look on his face.“Hey, there” he smirks, and Anne wishes she could just wipe the smirk away.“A favour for a favour,” she whispers.“You owe me some brownies, Carrots.”
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 109
Kudos: 329





	1. The One Where It All Begins

It starts in a really, truly dumb way. Because, honestly, there is no other explanation as to why Gilbert Blythe is putting his arm around her shoulders, for everyone to see, at noon, on a working day, in a busy café.

He swings it around Anne’s shoulders, carelessly, before whispering, “Just go with it, Carrots.”

Anne is too shocked, a deer caught in the headlights kind of shocked, so she does as she is told as he leads her out of the café. _Psh, Carrots_.

“What was that,” she accuses after Gilbert removes his arm from her as they round a corner.

“Just needed a little help from an altruistic soul,” he shrugs, and Anne absolutely hates his dark Ray Ban’s because this way she can’t even tell if he’s mocking her.

“Blythe,” she starts rather fiercely, “I swear if this is some sort of an elaborate prank the hockey team has cooked up I will find a way to absolutely ruin you.”

“Geez, Carrots,” he holds his hands up in defence, then takes off his shades. “It’s not a prank. I’ve just broken up,” he pauses, pressing his lips together, “I was just _dumped_ by my girlfriend for a guy who is older and according to her way hotter, and more mature,” here he rolls his eyes, “than me. And they just walked into the café as I was ordering some pity brownies for myself.”

Anne needs a moment to take it all in, but then she says, “Wow, life must be hard for Gilbert Blythe.” And she regrets it instantly, because it must be tough being replaced by someone. Not that she would know what it feels like, but she can imagine it wouldn’t feel very good. Even if you are Gilbert Blythe, even if you can—more or less objectively—have any other girl in the school. Hearts don’t take into account how popular you are, they just break.

“Sorry,” she shouts after he turns on his heel to leave, “that was rude. I sometimes word vomit. I often do it. I’m sorry.”

Gilbert looks at her, pensively, “It’s okay.”

“No,” she grabs his arm, “it’s definitely not. And you haven’t gotten your pity brownies. We can go get some.” Anne feels really stupid suggesting this. After all Gilbert and her haven’t really been a part of the same high school class, let alone group of friends for years. It would definitely be weird and awkward. So, she wishes she could take back the offer.

Gilbert licks his lips, fixes up his hair, and flashes her a toothy grin, “I’ll be fine, Carrots. See you at school.”

Anne is unsure whether she prefers the feeling of relief or mortification, but she is certain the two are mixing together, and her brain is about to implode. Hastily she pulls out her phone and dials the all too familiar number.

Diana picks up after the third ring, “You won’t believe what just happened, Di…”


	2. The One Where Gilbert Returns The Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hockey game. A few drinks. A dumb love letter to a stupid ass. And a Gilbert Blythe. 
> 
> Anne wishes her life would once again be simple, but she seems to be determined on making exciting life choices.

“So, he smirks at me and then leaves,” Anne finishes her detailed, exciting story. The three of them—Cole, Diana and her—are sitting at their lunch table, in their favourite spot, on the terrace in the backyard next to a sad lemon tree. It’s a warm sunny day, and the first week of school which means no one is yet under any kind of stress. Half of the student body is outside for lunch, lounging about on benches, grass, and whatever available surface there is. Anne is hiding her face beneath a large hat, hoping her freckles will stay as tame as they have been throughout the summer, because while Diana tends to get a perfectly bronzed tan, and Cole seems to be impervious to any tan at all… Anne is the one stuck with sunburns and multiplying freckles. Cole always insist they are her most charming asset, and Diana says people always want what they don’t have so naturally she’d love a nice set of freckles. Anne appreciates their support but doubts they understand the pains of being a red headed, freckled, scrawny girl. Especially when your best friends are both as handsome as they get.

She has just finished recounting to Cole when a larger cloud slowly rolls around causing a stir amongst the students hoping to improve upon their tan. 

“How did your life become a rom-com,” Cole chuckles.

“It’s not a rom-com,” Anne protests even if it is tiny a bit cliché. She takes a big gulp of her peach smoothie, “It was just strange. To be fair, I don’t think he even knows my name.”

Diana sniggers, “Please, Anne. He had a _massive_ crush on you when we were kids!”

“What?!” Sometimes, when she is embarrassed as she is now Anne can feel her face getting progressively redder as blood rushes to her cheeks. “He doesn’t even know my name, we _gravely_ disliked each other when we were kids.”

“No,” Cole rolls his eyes. “ _You_ disliked the poor guy for some inexplicable reason.”

“He liked you a lot,” Diana adds. “Like _a lot_.”

“You two are idiots,” Anne sighs because Gilbert Blythe never let her have a second of peace in her early childhood life. He was always calling her weird names, pulling on her braids, and winning in roller-skating races. If he did like her back then—which he most definitely didn’t—surely he would have let her won at least one. “I won’t ever tell you about my life. Ever again.”

“Doubt.”

“Shut up, Cole,” she playfully punches his shoulder.

“So,” Diana twirls her straw mischievously, “you’re saying Gilbert has been dumped by the queen bee. That’s some juicy gossip.”

“That everyone likely already knows,” Cole quips.

“We’re always so behind when we don’t share lunch with Ruby, Jane and Tillie,” the brunette complains.

In all honesty they are usually behind with gossip because most of the time it’s irrelevant. Who kissed whom during spin the bottle, and who got braces. There was nothing interesting, nothing of immediate consequence for either of them, which is why—even when they did lunch with Ruby, Jane, and Tillie—they still did not pay much attention to the gossip being shared.

Gilbert Blythe being dumped by Josie Pye, though, after nearly three whole years of them being the It couple of their generation… now that was consequential and intriguing. The rest of the lunch hour Diana, Cole and Anne try to figure out who could have replaced Gilbert so easily. They run through the list of boys their senior, but most of them have girlfriends, and aren’t much better looking than Gilbert. Diana says no boy in their school is objectively better looking than Gilbert. Anne snorts at that and volunteers Cole as number one candidate to take Gilbert’s precious spot.

“Keep me out of it,” the boy pleads. “Besides, I also think Gilbert is the best looking boy.”

Anne groans, “I can never win with you two.”

“Just admit it Anne, he’s handsome,” Diana winks, which ears her an eye roll from Anne. “Don’t roll your eyes at me Cutberth.”

“Roy!” Anne’s exclamation is loud enough to garner some attention from nearby tables. “Ahem, Roy Gardner,” she adds quietly.

“Ugh,” her best friend seems displeased, “he’s so full of himself.”

Cole nods, “That’s true.”

“And Gilbert isn’t? Unbelievable,” Anne groans. “You two are the worst best friends a girl could possibly have.”

“Gilbert is kind, even if he can be a little cocky,” Diana tries to reason with Anne, even if she is well aware that reasoning is not what Anne is known to do. Not when she has made up her mind so firmly. “Roy’s just mean sometimes.”

“He’s never been mean to me,” is what Anne says, matter-of-factly, before switching the topic. “Are you still making me attend that hockey game on Friday?”

“Are you still being a buzzkill and refusing to go?” Cole adds.

“I don’t know, Cole,” she proceeds, and Diana can barely hold in her laughter. “Are you still taking Gilbert’s side instead of mine.”

Cole let’s out a laugh first, and Diana follows soon after, “I’m sorry, I was just unaware that now there is a Gilbert and Anne side.” The boy says, gauging the redhead’s reaction.

“Well, there is,” she confirms, although really what does her side represent other than the idea that Gilbert is not as great as everyone seems to think he is. Anne will have to work on that. “And if you’re on my side, then you can’t be on his side.”

“I think this is why he always liked you,” Diana notes, “you know, fiery temper and all.”

“I don’t have a fiery temper—okay, fine,” Anne stops herself short when both Cole and Diana share an amused look. “Maybe I am a bit temperamental—at times!—he’s still not _that_ amazing.”

Diana grins, “But you think he is a bit amazing.”

“I’ve said what I’ve said, don’t twist my words.”

“And,” Cole says, while getting up, “you will still go watch his hockey game with us on Friday.”

“Because what are friends for,” Anne smiles. “If not to make you suffer through violent sports for the sake of school spirit.”

Cole ruffles her hair (“Don’t be a buzzkill”) and then leaves them to go to his next class. Diana walks with Anne to Biology, a class they have together and is about to take her seat next to her best friend when lo and behold Gilbert Blythe swoops right in, and steals her chair. Anne is annoyed and begs her best friend—with the power of just one glance—to not leave her at the mercy of one Gilbert Blythe. However, Diana seems only semi-scandalized and far more intrigued, so she steps away and takes a seat right behind Anne.

“Sorry, Barry,” Gilbert smiles charmingly. “I just want to steal your friend for a moment.”

“What do you want, Blythe,” Anne hisses through her teeth.

“Geez, hostile much?”

“Only with my enemies,” Anne can’t help but wink at him. Which results in her feeling mortified because who even winks at people anymore. Will Gilbert consider this as some weird form of flirting? He probably will because he is so full of himself.

She watches him as he runs his hand through his dark, luscious curls, which Anne reprimands herself for noticing. His hair is just as stupid and annoying as he is, “I would have hoped we were at least frenemies after the other day.”

“At best we’re semi-friendly and you owe me a favour,” Anne offers, while writing down the date and class in her crisp white notebook.

“I can live with that,” Gilbert nods, a smile on his lips. “I just wanted to say thank you, and give you something as a token of my great appreciation.” He sets a small box next to her, and Anne can smell the chocolatey goodness radiating from it. She has half a mind to simply forgive Gilbert for all of his horrible transgressions, none of which she can remember off the top of her head, when Mr. Phillips walks in. Gilbert tries to switch back places with Diana but the man spots him.

“Mr. Blythe there will be no more switching places in this class,” he scans the classroom. “I would like you all to remain in the seats you’ve taken today for the rest of the school year. And I don’t care, Mr. Blythe, if you would prefer sitting next to some lovely brunette the next time we study Biology, you’ve chosen your spot.”

Which is how Anne ends up sitting with Gilbert Blythe in their Biology class.

Which is also why Anne is again extremely annoyed with his mere presence.

_I’m sorry_ _L_

He passes her the note, and Anne crumples it up without sparing it a second glance. Next to her Gilbert sighs, and behind her she swears she can hear Diana sniggering her treacherous laughter. How is Anne even expected to handle school life when her bosom friend is willing to betray her for some insignificant drama? Because Anne knows there will be gossip, and when the gossip gets to Josie Pye there will be drama, because no other girls ever has been allowed a seat next to Gilbert Blythe save for her. Gilbert always either sat with one of his hockey teammates, or with Josie. So, yes, there will be drama and Anne has been thrown to the dogs because Diana has apparently decided she enjoys her suffering.

Another piece of paper falls on her table, this one neat and taken from a light blue notepad.

_This will be hilarious to watch, sorry, I love you. Your BF forever_

* * *

Friday is yet another one of those warm, late summer days. The smell of freshly mowed grass hangs heavy in the air as everyone makes their way towards the hockey hall. Anne never quite understood the point of hockey or other sports in general, save for horseback riding and ballet, which were beautiful and so aesthetically pleasing as well. In fact, Anne really disliked hockey, and football, she could remotely enjoy basketball and skiing, but everything else tended to bore her to death. Metaphorically.

Most sports she would deem too violent, too aggressive, there was too much forced physical contact, and to top it off today she was watching roller skates hockey, which Cole explained to her was called inline hockey but to be fair Anne wouldn’t really know the difference. All of that meant that despite it being a wonderful Friday, Anne was not pleased at the current moment, pushing her way through other students in hopes of getting the best seats.

“Get the good seats,” Jane Andrews tells her, for the umpteenth time. “We have to document this for the school newspaper, and Cole has to be able to get good photos.”

Jane, Ruby, Tillie, Cole, Diana, Anne and some girl named Molly who never shows up, are part of school newspaper board. Cole is in charge of photography, Anne writes in depth articles on chosen topics, and Ruby, Tillie and Diana try to document useful and interesting school news. Jane Andrews is the editor because she’s always been the bossiest in addition to being the master of organization.

The school newspaper end up being another reason why Anne is seated far too close to the hockey team, and for some reason she feels that she alone has the best view of the back Gilbert’s messy head. His hair is sticking in all directions, and if Anne weren’t still thoroughly annoyed with him because of Biology seating fiasco, she may have found it endearing… but endearing in an annoying way, of course.

“What are you staring at,” Diana asks her, faux scandalized. She follows Anne’s line of sight and spots the number 13. “Oooh.”

“Gilbert’s stupid hair,” Anne shrugs. “He could comb it from time to time.”

“That was not an annoyed gaze,” her friend pushes. “You were looking at him… _adoringly_.”

“Looking at who adoringly,” Ruby Gillis has to come by at that exact moment. Anne can’t believe her bad luck.

“Oh, Diana is just messing with me,” the redhead smiles sweetly.

“Oh, okay,” Ruby nods. “Cole told me to give you this,” she hands her a thick notepad and his camera, “and he said to tell you he’ll be a minute or so late.” Then she takes her seat next to Anne.

Diana smirks, “I bet you he’s fixing his hair… again.”

“We can’t bet on this if I agree with you,” Anne winks, and Diana lets out a soft laugh.

Cole running late shouldn’t have been an issue because the game usually tends to run late. It just so happens though that it was the first match of the year and Anne—and Cole too—completely forgot that they needed to take the team photos. It would have all been okay has Gilbert Blythe not spotted her—Anne—and the camera in her hands. At first she tries ignoring him, although she can see his dumb exaggerated waves in her peripheral vision. Then Diana nudges her, and nods her head towards the team, and Anne can’t pretend any longer.

“What does he have an Anne sensor,” she complains to Diana while Gilbert waves for her to come down to the hockey team.

Diana, for all her merits as Anne’s one and only bosom friend, laughs at her tragedy. “It’s just a photo, Anne.”

“Then you go take it,” the redhead shoves the camera at her.

“I don’t know how,” Diana reminds her, “you’re the one who took photography classes with Cole.”

“Ugh, you two owe me for this,” Anne says, reluctantly getting up and making her way towards the hockey team, not quite sure why Diana or Cole were to blame for this happenstance. Really, it was only her own fault for even paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings. She should have worn sunglasses and put on her best bitch face forward.

“Knock ‘em dead, Cutberth!” Diana cheers after her, but all she gets in return is a middle finger from Anne.

When Anne turns back around she nearly crashes right into Gilbert, who is looking down at her with an amused expression, “Ladylike.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Gilbert comments from behind her as Anne approaches the rest of the team.

“We’re always in a mood, Gilbert,” Anne tells him, “the quality of it changes accordingly.”

“According to what?” He asks, and Anne has to wonder whether he is annoying her on purpose.

“According to people nearby,” she smiles sweetly at him.

Gilbert tugs lightly on one of her braids, “Don’t let me get you in a sour mood, Carrots.”

Then he winks at her—is he for real? Is this flirting? Why would he do that? Is this torment?—and goes off to gather the team. They arrange themselves around the bench, and pull funny faces as Anne snaps a few photos. Once she is satisfied with the outcome she signals for them to disband, and starts inspecting the photos. Gilbert joins her, because of course he does. Because he has decided that today is the day to annoy Anne.

“You know,” she starts, while deleting two overexposed photos, “I can do this fine all by myself.”

“I just want to make sure I’m peak handsome in every photo,” Gilbert nudges her shoulder.

“Aw, bad news for you,” Anne feigns sadness. “Sorry to say you’re not handsome at all.”

“Ouch,” the boy places a hand across his heart, “why must you wound me, Carrots?”

“Can you please stop with the Carrots nickname? It’s beyond annoying.”

“But it suits you,” he smiles down at her softly.

Anne holds his gaze for two more seconds before letting out an exasperated sigh. He truly has decided to be her tormentor on this beautiful Friday afternoon and nothing would stop him.

She bumps him lightly with her shoulder and walks away, not looking back. “Good luck, go team,” Anne cheers unenthusiastically.

When she reaches her seat, Cole is there with Diana. He holds out his hand. “Let me have a look,” He says taking the camera from her hands. Anne doesn’t pay him much attention, but the boy nods approvingly at the few photos.

“Don’t look,” Diana whispers, “but Josie Pye has been glaring at you ever since Gilbert waved at you.”

“She shouldn’t have dumped him if she’s going to be possessive,” Anne shrugs, taking a popcorn from Diana’s bucket.

“Why? Are you planning on romancing poor Gilbert Blythe?”

“Ew, no.”

“She’s still glaring,” Cole lets them know.

Anne looks up straight at Josie Pye, smiles sweetly, and waves.

“You could be dead by tomorrow morning, Anne,” Cole warns her.

“Or she could be.”

“Wow,” Diana comments mildly impressed before shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth. It’s at that moment that the game begins, and Anne grabs hold of her notepad and pen to write down the highlights.

* * *

They win.

Because of course they do. Because it is Gilbert’s team, and Gilbert is simply great at anything and everything he does. Anne isn’t as annoyed because they won, as she is at being dragged to Andrews’ home for an after party by her dearest friends, Diana and Cole. In retrospect, she should have anticipated such development. First of all, the Avonlea Mustangs (a very manly name) rarely lose. Second, she should have known that if they won the first game of the season—even if it was a friendly match—inevitably all hell would break loose afterwards and some sort of elaborate thing would develop. This time around, that thing is a house party at Andrews’.

The Andrews’ house is a bit farther away from school compared to Anne’s, located in one of the more fancy neighbourhoods, and their—Jane, Billiy and Prissy’s—parents are very rarely home on the weekends. Jane told them a while ago while they worked on a newspaper article at her house that Mr. and Mrs. Andrews prefer spending their free time at their lake house. There Mrs. Andrews takes care of her garden and Mr. Andrews goes fishing, they usually eat what grows in the garden and whatever fish Mr. Andrews catches. Anne thinks it’s quite romantic, that they choose to retreat into nature and be alone with one another even after being married for over 25 years. But then their romance directly supports the utter wilderness that hockey game after parties tend to become, so Anne thinks they might also enjoy a nice weekend in the city from time to time.

There is alcohol on the kitchen island, odd mixes of various drinks in various bowls, each offering perfect buzz or a horrible stomach-ache, and quite often both. It’s been three hours into the party and Anne is quite certain that a) she’s drunk, and b) even if she was supposed to have a stomach-ache she would be too drunk to notice. Also c) this is definitely not okay, and Marilla would be so disappointed, which does nothing to stop her from dancing with Cole and Diana, or joining the step jumping contest, which is exactly as ridiculous and stupid as it sounds like.

The contestants are tasked with a very simple task of jumping off the designated step to the bottom of the stairs. The contest starts with the first step from the bottom, and the number increases with each round. Anne is drunk when she has Moody sign her up, and somehow convinced that because she is potentially the lightest of the contestants she would also be the most aerodynamic and therefore stay afloat in the air much longer.

“You sure you can do it,” he asks, only a bit worried.

“Yep,” Anne says and flicks him on the nose.

It’s her, against some really tall guy, against Ruby—who is playing to impress Moody—against Diana, against Gilbert, and another girl Anne swears she’s never met in her life. Gilbert is handling his steps as well as anything else—perfectly, the tall boy is just getting warmed up, and the random girl disappears before the game starts. Around them people chant and holler, as the stakes increase, and the stair number rises. Ruby quits after the third round, too afraid to jump off the fourth step, and Diana gives up on the fifth step. Anne mocks her loudly as she jumps off the troublesome fifth row, nearly landing on the first step.

“Watch out, Carrots,” Gilbert tells her as he performs his jump after her.

Josie is right next to him in no time, hand on his chest, “Yeah, Annie, you should be careful. Wouldn’t want you breaking your foot.” Anne doubts Gilbert is sober enough to care that his ex, who dumped him for some other guy, is all over him. Or perhaps Gilbert is just drunk enough not to care about that part.

“Maybe you should quit, Anne,” Diana says, worry on her face.

“Are you kidding me, I’m winning this.”

Cole laughs, “You nearly twisted your ankle just now.”

“It’s fine, I know how far to jump now.”

Except she doesn’t, Anne realises this as she is flying through the air after taking a leap off of the sixth step. She is nearing that nasty boundary between the first step and the ground floor, and she knows with certainty that she will not make it. The only question that remains is how much damage this will cause.

“Shit,” she mutters and then she’s landing on the edge and falling face forward. Anne’s knees slide forward a bit on the wooden floor and she barely stops her chin from hitting the ground as well.

“Anne,” Diana shrieks running towards her.

“Did I win?”

Cole lifts her up, nothing seems to be broken, perhaps only Anne’s pride.

“Are you okay?” The brunette asks her, and Anne nods.

“Let’s go get some air,” the two of them—Cole and Diana—drag Anne through the crowd in the living room, all the way to the front door. They find a nice spot on the Andrew’s porch, and for the first time that evening Anne can feel her head throb and spin simultaneously. It’s still so warm outside, and the quite suits them all. The noise from the inside is deafened, and the light breeze rustles the leaves around them in a quiet hum.

“Ugh, that was stupid of me.”

“No,” Diana gives her a small side hug. “It was very brave.”

“And a bit stupid,” Cole nods.

“You know what we should do?” Anne grins.

Cole is wary of her expression, too much mischief for his taste, “What’s on your mind Anne?”

“We—each of us—should write a letter,” as she is saying this she is reaching inside her backpack for her notebook, and tearing out a piece of paper for each of them, “to the person we most like. In school.”

Diana shares a look with Cole, “And what would be the benefit of this writing exercise?”

Anne shrugs, “I don’t know. To share. To feel our emotions. To get rid of our ideals, and put them on paper and then discard them. I’m drunk, beats me.”

“So, it would be to forget about this ideal person in school?”

“Is this about Gilbert,” Cole asks.

“Not everything has to be about him,” Anne responds, slightly ticked off. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I just thought it would be fun. Like our old club.”

“Let’s do it.” Diana claps her hands and snatches a pen from Anne’s grasp.

She ends up writing a letter to none other than Winnie Rose, which Anne finds to be ironic for various reasons. One being that Anne has decided to write to Roy, who is a bit of an ass but also Winnie’s ex. It’s funny that the two bosom friends would choose each one of the two broken up lovers. Diana claims Winnie is her perfect partner in crime, an ideal in all things she could imagine. Winnifred Rose is pretty, tall, blonde, a down to earth Instagram influencer if such a thing exists, and to top it all off she’s studying to become a surgeon. Diana sighs dreamily as her letter lists all of the blonde’s many attributes.

Cole is a bit more mysterious. He writes to a literal mystery figure, too afraid of someone potentially finding their letters and outing him. Cole isn’t quite _out_ out, not to everyone. And he prefers it that way, for now. He talks of the way his mystery figure carries themselves, and all of the languages they would speak fluently, and the artists they would appreciate. Anne figures no such person exists within the walls of their school, but they sound so dreamy and perfect that she too falls a little bit in love with them. If Cole weren’t a painter, Anne would definitely make him work more on his writing. Even without any practice he manages to build such fantastical sentences which prompt the reader—or hearer—to imagine an array of wondrous scenarios.

“I wrote to Roy, obviously,” Anne giggles in her drunken state when it’s her turn to read the letter out loud.

_Dear Roy Gardner,_

_You know me but you don’t know me. We attend the theatre group together, and we’re also part of the debate club. I just wanted to let you know how perfectly romantic you are. Even your name oozes romance—Royal Gardner. Royal_ _! Your parents must be geniuses to have chosen such a perfect name. Your accent is wonderful, your voice is soft, and whenever you play the role of a heartbroken lead hero in any of our plays, I only ever wish to be your heroine. Not that I could ever be that. Although I am your Juliet this year, but that seems neither here nor there._

_I so thoroughly enjoy your artistic expression and your vigour during debates. Honestly, I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed with Gilbert when we have you. It’s beyond me. I’d pick you over Gilbert anytime. Not that any one of you would pick me, but still… it’s the thought that counts, right?_

_You are positively dreamy._

_Yours, if you’ll ever have me,_

_With love L O V E_

_Anne Shirely Cutberth_

Cole and Diana are adamant on burning their letters while Anne wants to store all three of them in her writing box back home, but her best friends seem to trust her very little.

“Especially in your current state,” Diana notes, as Anne tries to keep her balance while walking on her tippy toes.

“Fine, have it your way,” she gives in, tucking her own letter in the pocket of her jean jacket. “I’ll keep mine.”

* * *

On Monday morning Anne finds Roy Gardner, of all people, leaning on a locker next to her own. She is just about done with fetching her books when she shuts her locker and next it finds the handsome boy sporting a wide grin. He has a strange crumpled up piece of paper in his hand which he waves in her face, and Anne rolls her eyes at him. Confidently she heads towards her Algebra class. If she has learned anything in her sixteen years of life it’s to never fall for any sort of provocation. Roy can be more vocal if he wants something from her.

“Annie,” Roy catches up to her, “you can’t just walk away from me now. Not after that letter you left in my locker.”

She stops to look at him in confusion, “What letter?”

He waves that annoying piece of paper again, then hands it to her, “This, my dear.”

Anne halfheartedly takes the paper in her hand and unfolds it. There, in her neat curvy writing, are her dumb drunk thoughts on Roy Gardner. Her cheeks are warming up at an alarming speed, she can tell just how red she must be turning, and all the while the boy in question is standing before her with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“I had no idea you yearned for me that much,” he tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I do not,” Anne defends herself, although the piece of paper in her hands is as far as damning evidence goes. “I was drunk.”

“On truth elixir, clearly.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she responds, but her voice is weak. “I have to get to class.”

It’s lucky for Anne that her next class is as far from her locker as humanly possible. She also feels lucky that Roy chooses not to sprint after her, because she feels mortified as is. Not only did she somehow proclaim her love—which was nonexistent—to Roy Gardner, but he was also Winnie Rose’s ex. And Winnie has always been perfectly nice and kind towards her. Winnie has taken on a role of a mentor for Anne as soon as she met her, encouraging her to join theatre group as well as the debate club. Winnie was amazing and Roy Gardner, despite his good looks, was the one who broke her heart, shattered it into a million pieces. Anne knows, because Anne was there bringing her cranberry white chocolate cookies—Winnie’s favourite—until she stopped crying. Then they never spoke of Roy again. It is—and always was—against girl code, to begin with anyway, and despite his terribly charming looks Anne is not quite sure she wants to get involved with all of that.

She shouldn’t have even chosen him for her stupid letter, but if she isolates him from who he seems to be… Roy really is dreamy. In fact, Roy is too good to be true, which is an ironic fact. Because he’s no good at all.

So Anne does what she does best and plays a fun little game. An adventure across the school. Her whole day becoming a montage of desperately trying to avoid Roy. He waits for her in the main hallway after her second period, wanting to walk her to her next class, a completely see through excuse. Anne refuses, tells him he ought to be more creative, and claims Diana is having a crisis then drags the unsuspecting brunette into the girls’ bathroom. At lunch, she spots Roy just as he is headed towards her and Cole. In a second, Anne packs up what’s left of the sandwich and bolts towards the girls’ bathroom. The bathroom is a safe spot because even though Roy knows no boundaries and tries to corner Anne while she’s hiding out in a bathroom, another girl screams at him for being a perv. By the time her free period rolls around, Anne is changing into the back up shirt she keeps in her locker, and stealing Diana’s headband.

Finally, Roy gives up. Because Roy knows tomorrow is theatre, which Anne never misses, and he will just wait until that class rolls around. Patience is a virtue, and Anne is a quirky little thing. Anne still stays on the lookout until school is over for the day and she can dash out and make her way towards more certain freedom. Anne begs Diana to come grab an ice cream sundae with her to lessen the stress of the day. They’re standing at the parking lot, resisting the wave of students eagerly leaving school grounds.

“I can’t Anne, I’ve promised my mum I would help Minnie May with her homework,” Diana explains. “You know she only ever wants to study with me.”

Anne sighs, trying to mask her disappointment. She understands why Diana can’t join her, she just doesn’t think it’s fair that Diana always has afterschool activities that her parents decide on. There’s rarely ever any compromise with the Barrys. “It’s fine, I can go alone. I really, really want that new peanut butter chocolate sundae.”

“You’ll have to give me an honest review when you have it.”

“Of course,” Anne nods, “I’ll text you as soon as I’ve tried it.”

It is a perfectly nice day for a walk, Anne thinks after bidding farewell to Diana. Instead of waiting for the bus, she simply proceeds on foot. The walk isn’t tiring, nor too long, and it will do her well to stretch out her legs after a whole day of school.

 _Oh, god_. She hates it when her inner thoughts sound like an 80-year-old grandma.

 _Stretch out her legs,_ Anne scoffs to herself. _Who talks like that?_

It’s a twenty minute walk to the café, and when she finally arrives Anne notices quite a few of her classmates seem to be sitting at the small park across the street. Ruby and Jane wave her over from a small bench in the shade, and she motions towards the café. She’ll be right there, just give her a second.

The following few moments play out as if on autopilot. Anne enters the small shop area, there is a short line, but it should not be a long wait, it never is—the service is outstanding. From the corner of her eye, she notices golden hair approaching her, as Roy Gardner makes one final attempt at cornering her to talk about the love letter. Before Anne has the time to think about it her eyes are looking for an escape. She darts towards the exit door just as Gilbert enters, and nearly crashes into him. A couple of clearly messed up neurons in her brain connect and she thinks she has a marvelous idea.

Without a second thought Anne pulls Gilbert’s face closer to her and kisses him, which is insanity in and of itself but desperate times call for desperate measures. Really, truly desperate.

She’s kissing Gilbert Blythe, who is surprisingly eagerly kissing her back.

 _Ew_ , she’s kissing Gilbert Blythe.

Anne pulls away, and masks her horror by smiling sweetly up at him. He has that warm yet bemused look on his face.

“Hey, there” he smirks, and Anne wishes she could just wipe the smirk away.

“A favour for a favour,” she whispers, begging him to go along with it.

Carefully, Gilbert glances across her shoulder to where Roy Gardner seems to be positively fuming, “You owe me some brownies, Carrots.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Roy doesn't spread gossip about Anne. Anne wants to break up with Gilbert. Gilbert is shirtless, and Anne is annoyed (for once not at Gilbert). Gilbert wants to fake date Anne because Josie hates it. They draft the rules. Roy says it will crash and burn, but he'll be Anne's shoulder to cry on. 
> 
> A/N:  
> Please comment bcs it's the only thing that fuels me. That and my love of fake dating AUs :)


	3. The One With The Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy is a pompous ass. Cole is the best ever, and Gilbert is charming and okay looking.

The small auditorium of Avonlea high is old and worn down, nevertheless it succeeds at being the most charming part of the school. The floorboards squeak something horrible when the performers step on them. Even the seating is uncomfortable, and has layers of chewing gum glued to the bottom of it. Anne loves it though. She loves when they have it booked for theatre group, which is not all the time, and it’s definitely not as often as she would like. There’s something to the entire space, perhaps the amounts of imagination and young performers that have passed through it. Anne says it provides so much scope for the imagination, to think of all the young people, all of them students just like their quirky little theatre group is, that have taken their time to create something wonderful to perform for their classmates and on occasion their parents.

It’s much better than meeting up in a random classroom, for sure, which is why Anne is not as vivacious as she would prefer to be when she walks towards the booked, boring old Biology classroom that afternoon. The lack of proper acting space mixes with her nerves going haywire upon even considering talking to Roy Gardner, and Anne needs to concentrate on taking a few deep breaths just to calm herself. If she is going to be communicating with Roy even the slightest bit, which she will, because the boy would never miss theatre, not when he can also use the opportunity to bring up that damned love letter. ( _Note to Anne_ , she thinks, _never drink again_.) Today is Roy’s proper chance to corner her, and Anne can’t very well avoid him forever. She’s Juliet and he is Romeo, and the play needs to be ready for the Christmas Showcase for parents. So, she swallows her pride, takes a deep breath, and thinks up a few good comebacks before entering the classroom.

Luckily, the devil hasn’t yet arrived. In fact it’s only her, Charlie Sloane—who used to be a dreadful actor but has greatly improved and is now taking on the role of Mercutio—and Ms. Stacy, Anne's Lit teacher who also mentors theatre group, and moderates debate club. Ms. Stacy is one of those teachers whom one trusts instantly. Very cool, and very beautiful.

“Hello, Anne,” she greets her. “I’m glad we’re not the only ones a bit early.” The blonde woman nods between herself and Charlie, whose face is hidden behind a graphic novel Anne isn’t familiar with.

“Eager to act,” Anne grins. “Or will we be working on the next scene today?”

Ms. Stacy pulls out her notepad and a stack of papers, “I was thinking of going through the draft I’ve made for the next scene today, but,” she scribbles something down in her notepad, “Mrs. Hendricks told me the auditorium is free afterwards so you and Roy could go over the balcony scene a few times, if you feel like it.”

Anne gulps but employs her acting talent to appear enthused, “That’d be amazing.”

“Great,” Ms. Stacy nods, oblivious to Anne’s inner turmoil, and turns her attention towards her notes.

The redhead takes a seat in the far back corner of the classroom, next to the windowsill where a very sad looking Monstera plant is presumably fighting for life. Her beautiful holey leaves are hanging, lifeless, their dry tips taking on a light brownish shade.

“Mood,” she comments mostly to herself but Charlie Sloane hears her and lets out a chuckle.

“My thoughts when I saw it,” he smiles.

Anne rolls her eyes, “Maybe we should save her. Poor thing.”

“It’s just a plant, Anne,” the boy says dismissing her suggestion. “Not like it can feel pain or thirst.”

It riles her up just the tiniest bit, “That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Charlie. For all we know plants could be able to feel many things. Perhaps not in the same way we humans do, but still…”

“Ah, Anne,” Charlie shakes his head chuckling at what he would describe as Anne’s antics. “Sometimes you let your imagination run too wild, you know that?” Which is rich of him to say as he is reading a graphic novel while waiting on theatre group meeting, both of which require imagination running completely, and utterly untamed.

“Imagination can never run too wild, Charles,” Anne replies without missing a beat.

“Don’t get so defensive, Cutberth, we can water the stupid plant if you insist.”

Anne huffs, “ _We_ can’t. _I_ will.” Then she grabs her empty water bottle and walks off determinedly towards the closest girl’s bathroom.

Ms. Stacy, who overheard the conversation, suddenly speaks up, “You know, Mr. Sloane, if you aim to impress a girl you should at least pretend to be excited about the things that excite her.” When Charlie’s cheeks turn red she simply adds, “Just a well-intended suggestion.”

In the girl’s bathroom, Anne fills up her water bottle then makes her way back towards the classroom. Charlie’s comments and the poor, sad plant have taken her mind off Roy, Gilbert, and whatever drama she’s indubitably gotten herself into. It all comes rushing back when upon entering the classroom she spots Roy who seems comfortably seated at her desk.

Head held high, Anne walks over to the desk, passes right next to the boy and begins watering the Monstera, “Hello, Roy.”

“Anne,” he sounds pompously excited, and when Anne turns to face him, he is grinning widely.

“Hi,” she beams at him trying to remain composed and keep her face neutral toned. If she blushes, he will know that he has gotten to her. An undesirable scenario.

“Listen, I would love to go back to discussing that love letter you sent me—”

“Let me stop you there, Romeo,” Anne holds up her hand, “I have never sent the letter. It was supposed to be trash, I don’t know how you got your hands on it but it wasn’t me.”

“See, it must be destiny.”

“Or Josie Pye.”

“One date won’t hurt, we could have a good time,” he cups her face romantically.

Anne nearly gags because she knows, or at least she assumes from Winnie's stories what having a good time entails. It is in that very moment that Anne decides to put her whole foot in it, or rather her brain decides to and Anne does not, consciously, contribute.

“I’m dating Gilbert Blythe, _Royal_ ,” she says, annoyed at his persistence.

As simple as that the confident look on Roy’s face seems to be thoroughly wiped away. Instead he fixes his cold, calculating gaze on her, “Do you make it a habit? Confessing love to one person and then getting with someone far less worthy?”

“Nope,” Anne looks outside of the window at the field where the hockey team is having their practice. From afar, she can spot Gilbert speeding to and fro, competing with his team mates. She wonders to herself whether it is smart to talk so boldly of him. Sure, he was down with a quick play pretend outside of school, but now Roy Gardner—who is more of a gossip than Ruby, Tillie, and Jane combined—holds two vital pieces of information. One, that Anne has been harbouring a silly crush on him—and silly it is, a bit of a Ruby styled crush, just to have a boy to daydream about—and, second, Roy seems to have believed her outrageous story on dating Gilbert.

“Huh,” Roy huffs discontentedly when she doesn’t respond right away.

“Just let it go, Roy.”

“Or,” when Anne turns to face him he is smirking at her, a menacing glint in his beautiful blue eyes. “I could post your letter on my Instagram.” Who would have thought such a beautiful looking boy would be such an arse when confronted with a little bit of rejection.

Anne is, of course, instantly mortified. _Keep your composure, keep your composure_ , a tiny voice chants in her head. It takes up all of her brain’s current focus to smile her sweetest, most innocent smile, and look Roy straight in those beautiful baby blue eyes, as if she is not completely rattled by the mere suggestion of him plastering her cringe worthy letter across social media. Nothing ever dies on the internet, everybody knows this.

“Yeah and how will that go for you when everyone finds out I chose Blythe over Gardner,” she pauses. “As your friend, and acting partner I would hate for you to become a laughing stock, what with you playing Romeo to my Juliet.” Anne’s quick wit is once again her rescue. For a girl who gets flustered when her best friends suggest Gilbert Blythe might fancy her, she sure does keep a cool head in stressful situations.

Roy frowns, having lost the upper hand, “I don’t buy it, Anne.”

“What’s not to buy?”

“You and Blythe,” the words roll off Roy’s tongue with venom. “It’s off. You’re too weird for him, too out there, too different.”

“The compliments are never-ending with you, huh?”

“I’m just saying, he’ll realize you are not as special as he thinks now, that you’re not his manic pixie dream girl, and this whole thing will crash and burn,” Roy sneers. “Don’t come begging me to take you back once it does… _Carrots_.”

He ruffles her hair playfully before leaving to chat up Ruby, who looks at him with dreamy eyes. Anne knows Ruby only joined theatre group to meet romantic boys who fight for the role of the dashing hero, but she wishes that Roy would keep away from her friend. Nevertheless, she accepts a little bit of space where she doesn’t have to keep focus in order to one up Roy’s remarks, as the rest of the group slowly files in. Anne has the time to go through Juliet’s lines at least five times before Ms. Stacy’s voice interrupts her concentration.

“Okay,” Ms. Stacy speaks up from the front of the classroom, “since we all seem to be here, more or less, we should go over the draft I’ve made for the next scene, which takes places in Friar Lawrence’s cell, so we will have Roy and Paul D. there,” she flips through her papers. “Then we have the scene in the street with Romeo, Mercutio, and Juliet’s nurse—so, once again, Roy please do come sit forward, and Charlie and Ruby, as well.” The group shuffles forward, all of them crowding the first few rows as Ms. Stacy distributes new materials amongst them.

“We stick to the template,” the blonde woman smiles at them, “so we keep a bit of that classic Shakespearean wording but we also bring in our own.” They have agreed to make Romeo and Juliet a tragicomedy when upon the first few rehearsals all of them kept improvising comical lines.

They work on the next two scenes for a whole hour, managing to add a whole page’s worth of witty remarks that work well with the story. They even keep a score board of who has added in the most—Anne wins every time—and, every time they finish a new scene they vote on the funniest added line. It keeps them motivated, and brings in a bit of a competition. Anne is ever so glad that Roy seems to be the worst at these remarks, meaning he for once can’t claim to be the best at something. It’s satisfying in a slightly mean way. Ms. Stacy promises to incorporate all of the changes they have come up with and bring them the updated materials for the next meetup, which should be on Friday, then sends them all on their merry way. As she is locking up Ms. Stacy informs Anne and Roy that the auditorium is empty, and that if they have the time can go practice their scene.

“Are we going to practice?” Roy rushes to catch up with.

“What? Now?”

“Yeah, the auditorium should be empty,” he responds, “You heard Ms. Stacy as well as I have. Anyway, I think you could do with some accent practice, your pronunciation is severely lacking. I could help.”

Anne groans, “Do you purposely pack your insults as weird helpful suggestions, or are you just _that way_ naturally?”

Roy sniggers, “A bit of both.”

“Fine,” the redhead mutters. “Let’s go practice.”

The auditorium is empty, and dead silent, when they make their way through the backstage area. Roy clicks on a few of the switches, and the reflectors come on, lightning up the old stage. The boy then grabs her arm and drags her into the centre of it. The boards squeak and creak beneath their weight, and Anne rejoices at the sound.

“Okay, shall I start?”

Anne nods, “You speak first in the scene, so yes?”

“Cut the attitude.”

“Can’t help it, Roy,” Anne rolls her eyes.

“Act it out, you’ll have to in the end.”

“So, that’s what Winnie meant,” Anne blurts out without giving it a second thought. It’s only after the words have already spilled into the silent auditorium that she realizes what has just transpired, and the warmth creeps up her neck. She knows that her face is turning beet red, and there is no stopping it.

Roy, on the other hand, seems pleased with the turn of events, “Anne, are you suggesting that we will have sex at some point in near future, despite you dating Blythe, but that you will fake your orgasm?” The words roll off Roy’s tongue as if he is talking about Sunday’s supper, and not the two of them having sex.

Anne cringes inwardly at the thought. Why, oh why did she have to go and say such a thing? How come her mouth can’t be controlled by her very capable brain? What sort of defect has she been operating with for her entire life?

“Not happening,” she mumbles, fumbling through the papers in her hand, and looking for the beginning of the scene. “There, Romeo climbs the walls—blah, blah—you start with—”

Roy cuts her off, “ _But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun._ ”

And Anne has to give it to him, that he is damn near perfect. The tone of his voice changes, his face appears romantic and soft. Dare she even say it but Roy looks angelic, and Anne has to remind herself that this is the boy who cheated on Winnie with none other than Winnie’s best friend not even a month after they agreed to stay together even though she was leaving for university.

Roy nudges her, and Anne snaps out of it, reciting her lines almost robotically.

“ _Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?  
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;  
What’s Montague? Nor hand, nor foot,  
Nor arm, nor face. Oh, be some other name!  
What’s in a name_—”

“Impressive,” the boy next to her snorts. “Let’s just call it quits, you’re probably dying to go french Blythe in the boys’ locker room.”

“Excuse me?”

 _Who even says french anymore_ , Anne thinks to herself.

He grins knowingly, “Come on, Anne, they’ve had practice today. Josie always waited for Gilbert after practice.”

“I, uh,” Anne stammers.

“Unless, you’re not that serious in which case I could take you up on that offer from before,” he pauses as if contemplating it. “Though I promise no faking will be necessary.”

“Sometimes you’re really vile, Royal,” Anne turns on her heel and leaves.

How is she even supposed to find the boys’ locker room? She’s never been there. And why is she even headed there, it’s not like Gilbert and her are dating for real. Sneaking a glance behind her, Anne can see Roy watching her rush down the hallway.

From his spot at the start of the hallway he yells, “Next left, till the end of that hallway, then right, and then second door on the right, Anne!”

Her heart is thumping wildly when she reaches the locker rooms, and Anne wonders if it is the speed walking, the weird rush of adrenaline, or a perfect mixture of both. Whatever it is, her heartbeat doesn’t seem likely to calm, and she will look like a creeper if the hockey team steps out of the locker room with her just standing there like an idiot. Anne considers just running away, but that means risking Roy seeing her and potentially finding out her dirty little secret, so that option is a no go.

Anne can still hear the loud beating of her heart, when she realizes that that seems to be the only sound surrounding her. Carefully, quietly, she presses her ear to the door of the locker room, and only hears silence. Braving her fear of whatever may be behind it, Anne presses the door knob down and slowly steps inside.

“Uh,” she clears her throat, “Gilbert?”

“Anne?”

People never quite expect certain scenarios in their life. Anne surely never expects half the things that happen to her, and yet somehow—in the back of her mind—she knows that she should have seen this coming. Because what else could have happened when she let herself enter the boys’ locker room after the hockey practice has finished. It’s a rhetorical question that Anne poses to herself as her eyes drink in the scene before her. There, in plain sight, mere feet away from her is Gilbert Blythe in a towel.

Only a towel.

Nothing else.

Anne’s mind is doing somersaults, and also cartwheels, and she is fairly certain her face will never ever be the same colour again. Gilbert Blythe has a six-pack, his hair is wet, and there is something entirely enticing about the picture before her. Much more enticing than Roy acting the part of tragically enamoured Romeo.

“Cat got your tongue, Carrots?”

The magic breaks and Anne can see him clearly now, for the obnoxious—yet, okay looking—boy he is.

“Get dressed, Blythe,” she snaps. “We need to talk.”

* * *

The two of them sit on the bench in front of the school. Anne is twiddling her thumbs around, as Gilbert gulps down his protein shake. The sun is slowly lowering towards horizon, and Anne laments quietly, in her head and to herself, over the days growing shorter.

“So, Anne,” Gilbert starts. “Did you just want to ogle me or was there some serious business we needed to discuss?”

“I did not ogle you!”

“You drooled a bit.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

Gilbert chuckles, “I am me, I have nothing else to be full of.”

The boy is infuriating, “How come you have a comeback for everything?”

“I practice in front of my mirror until the wee hours.”

“Ugh,” Anne can’t help but smile. “You’re good.”

“And handsome, as you’ve noticed.”

“You’re not ugly.”

“Carrots!” Gilbert guffaws. “Be careful, I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“About that…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he turns to face her, eyes wide. “You _do_ like me? _Like_ like me?”

Anne tugs on her braid nervously, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“So, you don’t like me?”

“I might tolerate you, Gil.”

“Gil.”

She stands up abruptly, “Forget about it.” Anne grabs her bag, walking away from the bench. It was a stupid idea after all. “I’ll handle it myself!”

“Wait, wait,” Gilbert jogs after her. “Come on, tell me. I’m _very_ intrigued.”

Anne has very little choice. She can’t run away from him, his legs are too long, and he runs and skates far more than she does.

“Promise not to laugh.”

“ _Pinky promise_ ,” he says, while holding out his finger for her as a sign of good will. Anne hooks her own little finger around Gilbert’s and thus they have officially pinky promised to keep everything henceforth a secret.

“ImayhavetoldRoyGardnerweweredating.”

“What?” Gilbert asks her as they round the corner and step onto a new street. The sun hits Anne’s face, and she rummages through her bag until she reaches her sunglasses.

“I told Roy Gardner we were dating.” It’s much easier talking about embarrassing things when one can hide behind dark tinted sunglasses. Anne is thankful that she remembered to bring hers with her that morning.

Gilbert lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, “Why?” He looks at her befuddled. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious, and I know he’s been pestering you for some reason or another… what did his face look like?”

Okay, so it was no secret that Gilbert and Roy were as far from being friends as it was humanly possible when two people had to attend the same school and meet in the hallways. Anne never knew the exact reason, Winnie told her a few bits here and there. From what she could tell it was older than Winnie’s heartbreak. Although, when Anne thought about it, that can’t have helped the situation. Gilbert and Winnie’s parents were family friends for as long as the two knew each other, up until when Mr. and Mrs. Blythe died in a car accident. Gilbert has always been protective of Winnifred, even if she was two years older than him.

“Earth to Anne,” the boy in question waved a hand in front of her face, instantly snapping Anne out of her reverie.

“Sorry, yes, why… Well, you see,” Anne starts, and the story spills out of her in as much detail as she is willing to provide. She talks about Winnie to give context, and then she talks about the hockey game—“Really, so violent, Gilbert,”—and then she talks of Cole and Diana kidnapping her and forcing her to go to the party.

“I remember you being so drunk you were convinced you could jump from—what?—the eighth step.”

“Yes, that was embarrassing,” Anne agrees.

“A bit endearing.”

“Stop being such a flirt.”

Gilbert groans at her comment, but Anne continues telling him about the drunken-purge-love-letters, and how she must have dropped hers when they were leaving. She tells him how she did not even remember penning the letter until Roy showed up at her locker on Monday morning wearing the biggest, most self-satisfied, grin ever.

“So, I did what any other girl would do,” Anne concludes. “Just smashed my face against yours.”

“That was _fun_.”

“And today, he kept being an ass,” she ignores Gilbert’s comment. “And I may have insinuated that we were dating. Like boyfriend girlfriend dating. The whole spiel.”

“May have insinuated?”

“Told him we were dating, fine,” she groans. “Must you be so nit-picky?”

“Well, we have to know what kind of situation we’re dealing with,” Gilbert notes, and Anne has to agree with him. When she realizes they have stopped in front of his house, she notes just how quickly the time flew by. It’s a good twenty minute walk from school back to their neighbourhood, Anne would have thought it would be a much less bearable ordeal.

“I was thinking of just pretending we went on a few dates, and then letting it go,” Anne suggests. “Roy said we would crash and burn eventually, maybe a quiet parting of the way will be best.”

Gilbert pretends to think on it, running a hand through his dark messy curls, “Nah.”

“Excuse me?”

He flashes that charming smile at her and elaborates, “I say we keep it up. Josie went mad jealous when she heard we kissed. It was _so_ good.”

“What?”

“Let’s fake date, just for a little while,” Gilbert says. “You get Royal Ass off your back, I possibly get back at or get back with Josie, and maybe you even learn to be my friend.”

“Doubt.”

“Still, it could be fun,” he nudges her shoulder, playful and excited at the prospect of his idea. Josie truly did go mad, and it was so good shutting her down with a simple _‘we’re not together any more, Jo, I can date whom I want to’_. Okay fine, maybe Anne wasn’t the only one guilty of flashing their non-existent relationship around, but Gilbert won’t be the one to tell her. Not yet.

“I’ll have to consider your proposal,” Anne frowns, now deep in thought.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage, Carrots.”

“Come by my house later tonight,” as she says those words, Anne is already walking away and pulling out her phone.

She sends a text into the group.

_Park, meet, now_

Cole responds within seconds.

_Pick you up at your place_

* * *

Cole comes by on his bike, and Anne jumps on the handles in front of him. She screams as they ride on a small slope downhill. Somewhere along the way Cole nearly crashes into an old lady and her dog, which earns them a withering glare. When they reach the park, they take their spot on the old bench under the maple tree they used to climb when they were kids. Anne looks up at its lush green branches, and winks at Cole before jogging towards the tree. In a matter of seconds she grabs onto the all too familiar branch, and hoists herself up into the crown of the tree.

“Come on, Cole,” she shouts at him after taking her place on long ago designated Anne’s branch. “Up, up, and above.”

“You’re crazy,” he says, but even as he is shaking his head in disapproval his hands are wrapping around that same old lower branch, and he is pulling himself up into the air.

Anne giggles, a most perfect girly sound that Cole has ever heard. He takes her seat on the branch beside her, “What’s going on?”

“Gilbert Blythe,” Anne smiles mysteriously, even though her stomach is twisting with anxiety, and her brain keeps on weighing the pros and the cons of her potential fake relationship.

“Did you two kiss… _again_?”

“Oh, no,” Anne protests. “Nothing like that.”

“Well, what is it then,” Cole prompts, a confused frown forming on his boyish face. Anne sees the excitement and intrigue in his eyes. Nothing remotely scandalous or interesting has ever happened to their magical trio, not since they’ve separated from Josie and her two blonde followers.

It is quite thrilling, for Anne as well, to be involved in such a fantastic story. If she thinks about it hard enough, which she does every so often. She recounts the cafe scene, her being a drunk mess, unplanned love letters that should have never existed, Roy who is a dream boy but is actually more of a Hans rather than Kristoff. It all sounds like a hilarious set-up for a great romantic comedy.

Then, of course, there is Gilbert, the protagonist of this Hollywood script Anne landed face first into, the most popular boy that she knows, whose ex-girlfriend is also her ex-friend become nemesis. Really, when Anne truly thinks about it, she ought to write it all down and publish it. Live off her teenage drama until she is old, grey, and wrinkly. Cole, Diana and her could travel the world without a care.

“Anne,” Cole clearing his throat snaps her back into reality.

She folds a leaf in two, and presses down on it with her fingers until there is a soft crunch. Satisfied, Anne lets the leaf float to the ground, “Sorry, I was thinking about everything.”

“And what is everything?”

“Gilbert suggested,” Anne starts and pauses. It sounds so ridiculous, wording it. Saying it aloud sounds like a really bad idea. “Gilbert suggested we sort of pretend we’re dating for a while,” Definitely a very bad idea.

“What!?” Cole’s voice cracks a little as it carries through the park, the excitement on his face evident.

“Just until he gets Josie back, and I get Roy _off_ my back,” the redhead explains. It still sounds like a bad idea when it’s verbalised and out in the world.

“That’s fucking fantastic, Anne.”

“You think so?”

Cole nods, “It is, of course, a shit-show waiting to happen, don’t get me wrong.” Here he pauses to smirk at her mischievously, “You two dumbasses will definitely fall in love and I’m going to have the time of my life watching it happen. Hell, I’ll end my Netflix subscription right now, this is all I’ll need for the next few months.”

“Months?!”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it goes on for at least two to three months,” Anne’s friend nods somberly. “It would almost be like a whole season of a TV show, but with daily updates.”

The girl groans, “You are horrible!”

“I just think it’s good you’re starting to go through your necessary dose of teenage drama,” Cole pauses to look at Anne. “It’s good for character development.”

“When will you go through your drama then?” Anne challenges.

“In my early twenties, of course.”

“Rule breaker.”

“I’m a rebel,” Cole winks, “what can I say?”

When the sun fully sets and an evening breeze picks up Cole suggests they go home. Anne protests despite wearing shorts and a cropped t-shirt. She protests in spite of goose bumps raising all over her body when a particularly strong gust of wind rushes through the tree. Once Cole convinces her they should go Anne reluctantly jumps off her branch, momentarily flying before landing firmly on the dry ground. Her phone buzzes as she watches Cole jump down after her.

_Come outside.._

_Who is this??_

_Gilbert_

_Be right there, am with cole at the park_

_Cool_

* * *

Anne forgets all about Gilbert waiting for her as Cole speeds down Green Gables Street. She’s nestled safely between the handlebars and Coles arms, her delighted shouts echoing through the neighbourhood. It is only when Cole stops at the Cutberths’ driveway that Anne is abruptly jostled back to reality of her situation. She hops down, and waves at the boy leaning against the apple tree in her front yard. Cole ruffles her hair before inevitably speeding off home and leaving Anne to whatever events will follow.

“Hey,” Gilbert smiles softly at her. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and Anne can’t help but wonder whether she has ever seen him look so casual. She hasn’t, not in the last few years. Gilbert somehow always looks put together, even if all he wears are dark jeans and white shirts.

 _God, he always did love James Dean_ , she thinks. _Silly boy._

“Hi...”

“So...”

“How do we do this?”

He laughs softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a fake relationship before.”

“Well I haven’t really been in anything,” Anne chuckles nervously.

“But you want to do this, right?”

She gives herself a second to think about it and then, “Yes, I do. It sounds like an adventure and you know me and adventures.”

“Ah yes,” his eyes meet hers and there is a softness Anne can’t quite place. “The bride of adventure, right?”

“You remember that?”

“How could I not?” Anne shivers and, as if on cue, Gilbert takes off his hoodie and hands it to her. “Here. Anyway, you imagined the best adventures. I loved playing pirates up in the trees.”

Anne laughs, wearing Gilbert’s hoodie feels too intimate but he smells _so good_ , that she can’t bring herself to feel bad about it, “The pirates were a classic, though I did enjoy Jurassic park games when we would all hide in that large bush. Marilla always made me stand still for an hour afterwards to check for ticks.”

“I got a tick once!” Gilbert tells her, and rolls up the left sleeve on his t-shirt all the way up to his shoulder. He points at a small scar on his back, just at the end of his shoulder. “I don’t know if you can tell but it was stuck there for a bit and then I worried my mum would yell at me so I tried to pick it out myself,” he smiles sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway they had to make an incision there because I really fucked it up.”

“Oh my god,” Anne’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “And here I thought you were smart, at least back then before the hockey took you.”

“Hockey rook me?”

“Yeah, like before the whole sporty thing, you used to be more of a nerd like the rest of us.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he then tells her, a smile gracing his lips. “But I’m still the biggest nerd at that school.”

“Ah, that never-ending ego,” Anne shakes her head. “So, shall we write a contract? Is that how it goes?”

“I mean… sounds as good as anything to me,” Gilbert nods in agreement.

When they are finally done there are 10 rules scribbled down on the paper. Anne writes these down on two pieces of paper, neatly this time. One for her and one for gilbert.

“Do you want your shirt back,” she asks him as he is about to leave. The moon is already up, and it looks marvellous even if it is not full. It appears brighter than the days before.

“Nah,” Gilbert shakes his head, “keep it. It’s what girlfriends are supposed to do.”

That night Anne looks at the list of rules, her eyes darting towards the shirt folded neatly at the foot of her bed, wondering how in the hell she got herself in this situation. And how is she supposed to get out with at least a shred of sanity.

Gilbert, in his room back home, is staring at the same piece of paper and making bets with himself on what will be the first rule broken. Because it seems inevitable.

  1. The relationship as decreed by the contract will continue for as long as both parties deem it necessary.
  2. The relationship will be terminated as soon as one person decides he/she cannot or does not want to do it anymore.
  3. No more kissing will occur. 
    * Gilbert’s annex: unless on cheek!
  4. Anne will allow Gilbert to hold her hand in public without complaints about imagined sweaty palms. 
    * Gilbert’s note: Anne thinks her palms get sweaty, which is ridiculous.
    * Anne’s note: It’s the truth
  5. Gilbert will attend Anne’s plays and drive her to and from school whenever possible.
  6. Anne will come to hockey games and cheer for Gilbert. 
    * Anne's note: Ugh.
    * Anne's annex: Fine, but no cheerleader dress ups, I won't paint my face.
  7. The cost of any future fake date will be split evenly amongst the two parties. 
    * Gilbert’s annex: unless other people are present in which case Gilbert handles it.
  8. No one else knows about this. 
    * Anne's note: Cole will keep quiet.
    * Gilbert's annex: Anne can’t tell Diana.
    * Anne's note: Ouch.
  9. Anne will get comfortable with calling Gilbert by his first name and, ideally, babe.
  10. Gilbert will stop calling Anne Carrots.



He is quite positive that rule number ten is there so he can break it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE! Here you go guys, hope it's a good one. I've been able to update these past two chapters rather quickly because I was on sick leave, but I don't expect the next chapter to be ready before the next weekend. :) 
> 
> NEXT:  
> Gilbert and Anne go public, all hell breaks loose. Rule breaking occurs. Josie Pye is not sweet, not at all.


	4. The One With The Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie is annoyed, and Anne ditches school. Cole is all of us, and where has Diana gone off to?

Anne wakes up every school day at exactly the same time give or take, she is convinced even the birds nesting on the tree outside her window know this. In fact, Anne once concluded, she is so incredibly predictable with her morning routine that even if she did at some point in life have a stalker, the person was bound to get bored quickly. For a girl known for her untamed imagination, Anne’s life sure seemed a tad too predictable. She stretches, drags her feet towards the window, and opens it, quietly deciding to do something unexpected today. The sun hits her freckled cheeks, which tingle at the freshness of the morning air. A breath of fresh air does wonders for Anne’s permanently sleepy brain—an ailment, which Marilla blames entirely on Matthew and him allowing Anne to try coffee when she was barely eleven—especially on a morning as beautiful as the one unfolding across the entirety of Avonlea.

“Good morning, world,” she whispers, mostly to herself, as her eyes take in the stillness of her neighbourhood under the soft golden rays of the rising sun.

Her routine is the same every day, Anne wakes up, opens the window for her room to breathe, and proceeds to her small but functional bathroom while humming the song of the day to herself. The space is cramped. Anne and Marilla often suspect it was part of a larger walk in closet, which was then divided into two tiny spaces, and somehow someone managed to fit a tub, a tiny sink, and a toilet in one part, and the rest of the clothes rack in the other. Matthew says it was their mother’s doing, but Marilla claims the house has never had any work done on it for as long as she remembered it. Anne is merely happy that she gets her own privacy in the morning, without anyone to barge into the bathroom and demand she hurry. She heard from Diana that that’s a horrible thing, as her little sister adores being an annoyance while Diana gets ready for school. It’s stories like that which make Anne want a younger sibling a bit less.

_“Screaming, crying, perfect storm…”_

Taylor Swift sings from her phone as Anne sets up her speaker on the shelf underneath the mirror. She keeps tapping her finger nervously against her chin waiting for the phone to connect. Showering without music is like eating unsalted popcorn—tasteless and sad. At least that’s how Anne once described it to Marilla, a term which at first shocked the woman, and then had her in a fit of laughter. Anne believes, firmly, that an early morning shower accompanied by a soundtrack of her favourite songs is a near religious experience. Besides, both Marilla and Matthew somehow always wake up at least half an hour before Anne, even when they could arguably sleep in a bit longer.

Anne suggested they try it out, but to no avail. Marilla loves tending to her flowers and the bit of garden they keep around before taking on some household chores. She usually reserves her afternoons for the translations she needs to get done. Matthew, on the other hand, loves waking up early and taking Belle—the golden retriever the three of them adopted for Anne’s eleventh birthday—for a long walk around the neighbourhood. The two of them then walk to Matthew’s favourite café where Belle lounges in the morning sun and Matthew reads his newspaper in peace.

The fact that both Marilla and Matthew are wide awake and well into their separate morning routines when Anne starts her own provides her with a fantastic opportunity of belting out all of her favourite songs in that small bathroom adjacent to her room. Sometimes, when Anne’s favourite of all her favourite songs comes on—and there is a multitude of those—Marilla can hear her all the way downstairs. In fact, Anne sometimes wonders if her neighbours can hear her and, if so, is she terribly annoying. She is sure that they would complain if she were too loud, or an awful singer. Especially the Baynards who live right next door, and are a big family of musically super-talented children.

The mirror is all fogged up when Anne steps out of the shower, as the final chords of Toxic fade out. Briefly, she wonders if perhaps she ought to have cut it short instead of dancing along for the entirety of the song. Instead of pondering on it for too long, Anne makes sure to breeze through the rest of her morning routine. Gilbert is driving her to school today and, as Marilla so often reminds Anne, being late when the other person is doing you a favour is the height of rudeness. As Anne was definitely not raised to be rude, she grabs her contact lenses and tries speedily putting them in her eyes. Even as she is trying to carefully place one in her right eye Anne knows she should already be giving up on the whole ordeal. It would be best if she simply picked up her glasses, and forgot all about the contact lenses for today, because—and this Anne knows from multiple experiences—whenever she needs to speed through the task of putting them in, it somehow always proves to be a failure from the beginning.

Anne is stubborn though, and today she is hell-bent on not wearing her glasses. Today, Gilbert and Anne will “publicize” their little ruse, and Anne wants to wow and dazzle on this Monday, instead of looking the way she usually does—like a girl whose nose is often deep in a book. Which is not an untrue statement, but today she wishes to strike some balance between books and dazzling.

“Not that there's anything wrong with having one's nose in a book,” she comments out loud, talking to herself in the mirror. Anne blinks once, then twice, only to frown. There seems to be something stuck under her right contact lens. Rubbing her eye lightly doesn’t do anything to rid her of the uncomfortable feeling, unless the trick is to make the scratching even more obvious. She tries taking her contact out, then putting it back in; then Anne makes herself cry by thinking of various sad things—such as abandoned puppies and heart-breaking goodbyes—to clean out her eye the natural way.

Nothing works, her right eye is now only red because she keeps rubbing at it while crying.

“Fine, you stupid little thing,” she says, giving up. “Why must it _always_ be me?”

A pair of round, thin rimmed, rose gold glasses rests on the bridge of her nose. At least her glasses look cute.

Who was she even trying to kid today? Everyone knows that Josie Pye is the goddess type of girl and Anne is assuredly not anywhere close to Josie Pye. Not that she would ever let that bother her, at least not before. Now that she’s entered into this stupid little contract with Gilbert everyone in school will inevitably end up comparing poor, nerdy Anne to the likes of Josie Pye, and the thought of it made her more nervous than she would care to admit. When Anne gets nervous her pulse speeds up, and she begins to feel warm and sweat, and Anne hates sweating. She definitely did not think of that when she agreed to be Gilbert’s fake girlfriend.

Would people even believe them? Would Gilbert expect her to dress appropriately? Would Gilbert even care? A boyfriend should like you for who you are, and if Anne were to change too suddenly as a result of this fake relationship it would only look bad for her. It would appear as if she changed herself to gain Gilbert’s favour.

_Ugh, gain favour, who talks like that?_

When the redhead enters the kitchen Marilla is working on the variety of spices stacked on the back deck of the house adjacent to the room.

“Anne!” she exclaims upon seeing her in the kitchen, “you haven't eaten yet?”

Anne is too busy slicing up two peaches to take notice of Marilla’s shocked tone, “Mhm, gotta eat, Marilla.”

“You’re _late_ for school,” the woman steps into the kitchen. “Let me help, do you need me to pack your lunch?”

“I just,” Anne looks up at Marilla in shock when the woman snatches the peach and the knife from her hands. “ _Marilla_! I was trying to eat that!”

Marilla tuts, “Make your berry smoothie for school, and there's some brie left for your toast. I'll slice up the peaches for you,” she then pointedly slices at the peach in her hand, “and then I am calling Matthew to come give you a ride. I do _hate_ to interrupt his mornings but I will _not_ have you be late for school when it can be avoided. I'd drive you myself—”

“Marilla—”

“I'd drive you myself,” she pauses for a split second, “but you know I don't have my glasses until Wednesday and I would hate to crash the car.”

“Marilla—” Anne tries, only for the older woman to shove a plate of peaches and a glass of yoghurt at her.

“Now, where's my phone…”

Anne groans, “Marilla, _stop_ , it's not necessary—”

“Ah,” the phone is sitting outside, on the porch table.

“Marilla!” Anne shouts this time, which finally snaps her mother out of her state.

“Anne, why must you yell all the time?”

“Because,” Anne shoves a slice of peach in her mouth, “you never—”

“Don't talk with your mouth full!”

Anne takes the time to swallow the peach slice. “Don't call Matthew,” she says softly, “I kind of, sort of have a ride to school.”

“In a car?”

When Marilla narrows her eyes suspiciously at her, Anne simply nods, “Yep.”

“You can't take car rides from just about anyone, Anne.”

“It’s not anyone.”

“Well who is it?” Marilla prompts, “do I know her? Is it Diana?”

“It’s a boy,” Anne smiles sheepishly.

“Did Cole get his driver’s licence?”

“No, no,” the girl takes the time to eat another slice of peach off her plate, then shrugs, “it’s, uh, Gilbert.”

“Well, who's this Gilbert now?”

Marilla still seems suspicious of this new development. Anne rarely takes rides from school if it’s not Diana or Cole, and the woman isn’t about to trust the life of her only daughter to some random boy who just got his driver’s licence.

“Blythe. Gilbert… Gilbert Blythe,” Anne stutters out. “He lives just—“

“I know who Gilbert Blythe is, Anne,” Marilla replies. “I just wasn’t aware that you two were still friends.”

“It’s sort of a new development,” she tries to keep her demeanour casual, though when Marilla narrows her eyes at her, Anne suspects her cheeks must have betrayed her once again. Treacherous cheeks that turn bright red whenever she is the slightest bit uncomfortable or excited. She really just ought to pile a thick layer of foundation on her face. Let those cheeks betray her then, let them just try.

“Huh,” her mother stops to consider this fresh information, “Well, I suppose that's alright.”

“Just like that?”

“He is a well-mannered, nice boy.”

“You don't even know him!”

“Fiddlesticks, I’ve known him since he was a child.”

“You’ve known him _when_ he was a child!”

“Anne! Do you _want me_ to forbid you from riding to school with Gilbert?”

“No,” the girl mutters, “I’m just saying he could be drinking and a very bad boy now but you don’t care… obviously.”

Marilla chuckles, “Well is he a bad boy? Does he drink?”

“No,” once again Anne drags out her reply.

“There. I trust your judgement,” she pinches her daughter’s cheek. “Now eat your breakfast and be ready. It's impolite to have someone wait on you when they're doing you a favour.”

Marilla returns to her spices on the porch while Anne finishes her breakfast. Then, when Anne lets her know she'll be leaving the woman pops her head back indoors once more.

“You should invite Gilbert and Sebastian for dinner sometime,” she says, “we haven't had them over in such a long time.”

Anne simply groans, grabs her smoothie and her lunch, before making her way towards the front door. She makes sure to lock the door properly—same as she does every morning—Marilla wouldn’t hear an intruder from the porch. Anne thinks one can never be too careful, even if Green Gables is a calm and quiet street, where their neighbours are either families with at least two kids, or old people with at least five grandkids.

 _I mean, has anyone watched Home Alone?_ , she thinks, sitting on the steps of her front porch, _That was also a very nice neighbourhood_.

Gilbert is over five minutes late when he finally rolls up in front of her house. He is wearing his signature leather jacket accompanied by an even more familiar apologetic smile, and Anne sure thinks that if he were to take off his sunglasses he would have an apologetic look as well. Gilbert Blythe is all charm, and Anne often thinks she is the only one immune to it.

“You’re late,” she huffs, buckling up in the passenger’s seat.

“Sorry, Bash took the car yesterday and he never leaves keys anywhere remotely logical,” Gilbert starts, as they drive away from Anne’s home. “And I didn’t want to wake him up because he’s been working till late at night for the entire weekend.”

“Oh,” well, now Anne feels like an idiot. “That’s fine, sorry I have a bad temper in the morning.”

Gilbert smirks, “I figured you might.” He nods downward. Following the line of his gaze, Anne notices two coffee cups in between their seats. “I really didn’t know what coffee you like, but then,” he pauses, a proud smile on his face, “I remembered you loved coconut—which I will never understand because, _ew_ —so I got a coconut flavoured one for you. With coconut milk because I can’t remember if you’re lactose intolerant so… to be safe.”

 _Oh, God_ , Anne can feel herself blushing. She wishes her face would stop betraying her feelings so easily. It makes it hard for her to be aloof and mysterious when she can’t help but blush at a simple human interaction. Finally, she manages to mutter out a simple, “Wow, Gilbert.”

“You like it, right?”

“Yeah,” Anne takes a sip, “it’s only my _favourite_ drink there.”

“Ha!” he exclaims, a proud smile on his face. “I would high five myself but I’m pretty determined on getting us to school in one piece.”

“I can’t believe you _still_ hate coconuts, though,” Anne chuckles. “I would have thought you would grow out of that little phase.”

“Little phase!” Gilbert exclaims, “I’ll have you know, Carrots, that coconuts are the bane of my existence.”

Anne sighs, slightly disappointed in his answer, and takes a sip of her marvellous coffee, “First of all, you just broke the Carrots rule, and we’re not even one day into our dating scheme,” there she pauses to take one more sip. “And, second! What did coconuts ever do to you, you hateful boy?”

“They smell weird!”

“They have a very faint smell, Gilbert Blythe,” says Anne. “You’re just being overdramatic.”

“Is this our first fake fight?”

“First of many to come.”

“Good, shows we have passion.”

“Ugh,” huffs Anne, while turning up the radio. “Sometimes your comebacks are annoying. One day, mark my words Blythe, I will catch you midstep and you will be at a loss for words.”

Even while Gilbert was saying, “Can't wait for that day,” he wasn't aware that the count of these occurrences will greatly surpass one. Nor that the very first one of these would occur within the next hour thus truly smacking him right in the face.

Instead of anticipating these events, which he would be sure to do had he known they were about to transpire, he makes a show out of their arrival to school. He parks the car in the usual—his favourite—spot, the one that's in the shade of the old willow tree. Within seconds after shutting off the engine, the boy rushes to Anne’s side of the car to open the passenger door for her. She thanks him, all the while rolling her eyes at his courteous actions.

Anne _is_ thankful, she truly is, that Gilbert is acting like a proper boyfriend. She is especially thankful when he swings his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to him. It makes her feel shielded from what feels like thousands of eyes staring at their every move. Being seen as Gilbert Blythe’s girlfriend feels a lot like being in the limelight, exposed and overwhelming, but in an entirely different way. Anne feels metaphorically naked and noticed, and having Gilbert’s arm draped around her shoulder is a strange sentiment. The whole ordeal of walking by someone’s side tilted at a less-than-comfortable angle was an interesting experience. It's strange because, while being completely odd and new, Anne imagines she could do this with a real boy someday.

A real _boyfriend_ that is, because Gilbert is a real boy.

 _He's not Pinocchio_ , Anne thinks, then stops her train of thought immediately, _that's a dumb thought. Pinocchio? Really Anne?_

Either way if it's not Gilbert, or Roy, Anne thinks it would be a fine thing to do with a boy. Maybe even Cole would suffice for some platonic walks.

The entirely real boy, who is her entirely fake boyfriend, pokes her shoulder, “Earth to Anne…”

“Huh?”

“Your locker is here,” he slowly shrugs his arm of her shoulder, lingering to squeeze her hand softly.

“Sorry, got lost… in my head, brain,” Anne blinks up at him, still a bit dazed, still a bit stuck on her own thoughts.

“Yeah, I've noticed,” Gilbert studies her face cautiously. “Don't go cold feet on me now.”

“What?! I'm not!”

The boy simply nods, tucking a strand of hair behind Anne’s ear. Slowly, he leans forward to place a soft kiss on her cheek, “Thought you'd be a better actress, Carrots,” his voice is playfully teasing.

When he is far enough from her face for Anne's blue eyes to be able to focus on his warm brown ones, there is a familiar mischievous glint behind them. It's a provocation, she realizes. Gilbert is somehow looking all too relaxed while making her nerves go haywire. And Anne is not about to stand there and let him win this round of banter, even if it isn't as wordy as the ones before. Her victory will require no words being spoken.

As swiftly as Gilbert let himself kiss her on the cheek, which—Anne thinks—was neither here nor there with regard to rules, she stands up on her tippy toes. With her right hand she pulls his face towards her, as close as he can get until she is suddenly, and quite purposefully kissing him. She is kissing Gilbert’s stupidly annoying lips, and finally—for once in the past week—the boy is blissfully quiet because he can’t very well talk with her mouth plastered to his. Her left hand grips onto his leather jacket for dear life, and Anne feels victorious at having stunned Gilbert into motionless silence. Finally, she comes out on top. Finally, he has nothing more to add because the shock of Anne breaking perhaps the most important rule on the very first day of their fake relationship is far too much for him to handle. She would dance with joy, but Marilla taught her that it’s never nice to gloat.

Once satisfied with the effect of the kiss, Anne is about to move away from the boy when suddenly—as if jolted awake by a strike of lightning—Gilbert’s hand reaches up to cup her face. Anne doesn’t even have the time consider the scandalous PDA scene unravelling before many onlookers before Gilbert—her annoying, not handsome at all, fake boyfriend—is so rudely, and unexpectedly, kissing her back. When he pulls away a couple of seconds later, it feels as if an eternity has gone by. His cheeks are flushed, and he is running his hand through the thick brown curls—a nervous habit Anne recognizes from all of the afternoons spent hanging out with him when they were younger.

Gilbert lets out a breathy chuckle, hoping his lack of composure doesn’t show, “You're quite the rule breaker, aren't you?”

Anne smirks, already expecting his little remark. With an aloof flip of her hair she shrugs her shoulders, “You broke the rules first.”

“I think that you actually enjoy kissing me, Anne,” _Because I enjoyed kissing you_ , he wants to add, but instead he bites his tongue because that feels like stepping over a very real boundary. Besides, he’s definitely not an eight year old boy harbouring a massive crush on Anne Cutberth. He’s grown up, and grown over it. So what if she is a good kisser.

“Dream on, Blythe,” Anne slams her locker door, then starts to walk away from him.

“Wait, wait,” as he catches up with her, Gilbert's arm is, once again, resting on her shoulders and Anne can't help but think that while romantic it also seems like an entirely too possessive a move.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking you to your class like a proper boyfriend would, _duh_. Also, Anne,” he starts, “if people are going to believe we're dating you'd best start calling me by my first name. It's Gilbert, by the way.”

They stop in front of Anne's classroom, “Sure will do… Pilbert.”

The boy chuckles, as Josie Pye glares daggers at the two of them while entering the classroom. For a split second, Anne is bothered by the proud look on Gilbert’s face, then she remembers she doesn’t really care for him.

“You're very funny, Carrots,” he boops her nose lightly.

“Flattery won't work on me, Blythe. Gilbert.”

“Ah, so she knows my name after all.”

“She knows a lot of things when she wants to,” shrugs Anne.

Gilbert glimpses the time on the clock in the classroom, “I have to go,” he says, “meet me for lunch?”

“Sure thing, Gil-boy.”

A chuckle escapes his lips before he adds, sombrely, “Oh, and do let me know when you wish to break some more rules.” He winks at her and Anne can't believe how cheeky and relaxed he is around her. Perhaps that happens when you have nothing to invest or lose heart-wise. They’re both playing this game with zero emotional stakes in, and Anne decides in that very moment to milk it for what it’s worth—learn how this thing functions so that, when she finally lands herself in an actual romantic relationship, she won’t mess it up with her lack of knowledge.

“Yeah, dream on.”

Anne turns to leave, spotting Diana in the classroom, when Gilbert's voice makes her stop dead in her tracks.

“Will you be able to resist me?” He is grinning that charming boyish grin.

Anne wonders how anyone, let alone Gilbert, can be so sweet and so cocky at the same time. Yet, there he was, right in front of her, defying all of the rules, showing off his pearly whites waiting for her response.

“Please,” Anne chuckles, “you are the only one still talking about that little performance. Take care not to actually fall for me, Gilbert, it wouldn't do our budding friendship any good.”

She leaves him dumbfounded in the hallway and joins Diana as Gilbert ponders over their budding friendship and his long gone crush.

“That seemed sexually charged,” is the first thing the brunette utters.

“Did it?” Anne giggles, feeling only the slightest pang of guilt at lying to her best friend.

* * *

It's funny how school bathrooms can simultaneously look clean yet smell so repulsive. There is only one remotely acceptable girls’ bathroom in the entire school, and by acceptable Anne considers—as most girls in the school do—functional toilet seats, and readily available paper towels. All else is a commodity. The best bathroom is still a bathroom, with its distinct smell of bleach and stale air, mixing with a variety of deodorant and sweet smelling perfume.

Anne attempts to find safety in one of the less appealing bathrooms in an attempt at avoiding Josie Pye’s loyal followers. They seem like they’re on a mission when she spots them across the hallway, and to her utter surprise the two start marching towards her.

“Gotta dash,” she pats Gilbert on the shoulder, leaving him looking after her in utter confusion.

“Bye,” he says mostly to himself, as Anne has already disappeared in the sea of students.

Not looking back she ducks left into an adjacent hallway, and and quickly finds her safety in the old smelly bathroom most popular for its numerous heartbreak notes. It’s oddly familiar and comforting, even if at first it seems disgusting highly non-romantic, leaving love notes on the walls of a smelly bathroom. The notes have been there years before she first stepped foot into it, at least she knew as much from the dates carved into the wooden door, or added right next to messages. It was almost like a notice wall for breakups, while school desks were notices for fresh beginnings.

“Maybe I should write down Gilbert and Anne,” she mumbles to herself, staring at the mirror. There is a chip in the upper left corner, and as Anne ponders away the variety of freckles on her face, and the fact that the bags under her eyes would never completely cease to exist, a movement at the door catches her eye.

She sees her in the mirror first, as if living a horror movie in which a beautiful blonde girl is the stuff of nightmares. Josie Pye, in all of her tall, blonde glory, is leaning softly against the door, blocking Anne’s only way of escape. Technically, that’s not true, Anne could escape through the window but that would be far too humiliating. Besides Matthew has always told her it’s best if she faces her fears headfirst—or face to face—to show them she doesn’t really care. Even if, deep down, she does.

Deafening silence fills the space between the two girls as neither moves. It feels like eons could have gone by before Josie speaks up.

“Hello, Anne,” she smiles sweetly.

“Hi, Josie?” _Suspect everything_ , Anne thinks to herself.

A sweet expression graces Josie’s face as she stares Anne down, “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

“By all means,” Anne shrugs, though she really is not a fan of cutting to the chase. Not in this particular situation. Cutting to the chase could very well mean Josie Pye murdering her. Even though Anne sometimes claims she would rather be dead than partake in particular activities such as sports, or sober beer pong, faced with perhaps imminent death she knows for sure. She knows one hundred percent that she would prefer not to die. 

“Here’s what I think,” Josie’s sweet voice breaks the silence, “And I’m usually right.”

“No need for a villainous speech, Josie, just get your insults out and be done with it.”

The girl seems taken aback by Anne’s swift reply, “Aren’t we mouthy, I sure hope you don’t kiss my boyfriend with that mouth of yours. Oh, wait…”

“Your boyfriend,” Anne can’t help but laugh. “You dumped him! He’s free game for anyone now,” then she smirks, “well, not anymore.”

“Everyone knows you’re a consolation prize, Anne,” the words echo all around them, sharp and painful. “You must know, surely, that everyone sees you for who you are. And everyone who sees you wonders one simple thing. And that thing is,” Josie narrows her eyes at Anne, “That thing they wonder is how could Anne Cutberth ever live up to me. To Josie.”

“Yet, Gilbert seems perfectly happy.” _Even if he is only fake dating Anne to get Josie back_.

Anne hesitates for a split second, and a triumphant smile spreads across Josie’s lips.

“He is enjoying the novelty of dating a girl who is my polar opposite,” Josie agrees. “Once that wears off, though, he’ll be off to the next one. Or, better yet, back to me. Because no one gets over me that easily.”

“Narcissistic much?”

“Listen, I’m just trying to help you keep your expectations low, as girls like you should do.”

“Yeah, okay, you just sound jealous. If you want Gilbert back shoot your shot.” Anne finally makes her move, reaching for the door handle. It’s one thing to be afraid of Josie when the blonde is acting like some far off goddess. It’s an entirely new thing, being face to face with the girl, and realizing that she’s neither taller, nor stronger. In fact, Anne thinks she could definitely take her in hand to hand combat.

“Anne,” Josie’s voice is layered with faux sweetness, “we aren't friends, but I'm trying to warn you about Gilbert. He does this all the time.” She nods empathetically. “We break up, he gets with another girl for a little while, then we're back together and the girl is yesterday’s news. It's plain and clear that this time he chose you as the victim to demean me somehow. To show that he can replace me with just about anyone.” At this she chuckles, picking at her perfect, pink nails. For a second Anne feels for the girl who clearly hasn’t left whatever Gilbert and her had behind, even if she was the one who dumped him.

Then, without a fair sign of warning, a single rouge thought creeps up on her. As the two girls stand in silence, both mulling over their interaction while staring down at the dirty bathroom floor, Anne realizes that she was so quick to trust Gilbert. Perhaps too quick. Perhaps she wrote him off as the kind—if a bit ( _a lot_ ) annoying—boy she knew when they were children. What if he has changed? What if Josie wasn’t lying? What if this fake dating spiel is not a first for him? He did seem awfully prepared when thinking up the rules. Maybe Gilbert is some sort of serial fake dater that finds a different victim every time Josie and he fall out.

Or maybe, just maybe, Anne’s imagination running wild does not mix well with the anxiety she kept as a souvenir from her orphanage days long gone.

“Cat got your tongue, Cutberth?” Josie’s voice jolts her back to reality.

“I'm late for class,” Anne mumbles, pushing past Josie to yank the bathroom door open. The blonde girl doesn’t stop her this time, and leaving her behind feels good and liberating. Leaving her behind means Anne can finally take in a breath, and let herself analyse the repercussions of this interaction. It is only when she steps outside of the building, into the sunlight, that Anne realizes that her heart is thumping loudly in her chest, threatening to burst out. She leans against the wall and focuses on taking in a few deep breaths to calm herself down. There is no logical reason as to why her eyes are brimming with tears; she was perfectly fine mere minutes ago. Besides, she doesn’t even care about Gilbert, not in a romantic way. Not at all. But she rarely trusts people as quickly as she trusted him, and it feels terrifying, looking back on it.

It is the prospect of being taken advantage of, of being made into a fool, which makes her brain run wild with theories.

Hands shaking, Anne pulls out her phone.

_Anne: Do you think Gilbert could ever do something bad? To me?_

_Cole: idk, no? he doesn’t seem like a bad guy? why? did something happen??_

_Anne: Just.. my thoughts, you know_

_Cole: don’t let yourself overthink this, anne. you can’t think up bad scenarios just to be prepared for them, that’s not how life works._

_Anne: You’re right, okay. I’ll calm down_

_Cole: do you need me to come find you? where are you anyway? aren’t you supposed to be in class?_

_Anne: Too hyped. Need to calm down._

_Cole: where are you?_

_Anne: Side parking lot exit.._

_Cole: be right there ;)_

* * *

Cole makes Anne ditch the rest of the day, which is not terrible because she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything after her thoughts went wild on her. As the two of them waste time watching The Good Place, and preparing the ingrediantes for Cole and Anne’s great bake-off, Gilbert repeatedly.

_Need a ride home? ;)_

_Anne?_

_You okay?_

_Alive and well?_

_Are you mad at me or something? I won’t call you Carrots anymore, I promise_

_Okay, hope you’re okay, I won’t bother you anymore just let me know if you need a ride to school tomorrow…_

The texts are evenly spaced out throughout the afternoon and Anne feels bad every time she doesn’t answer. She feels worse for doubting him, for even thinking that he would use her. The worst part is that despite the fact that Cole talked to her, and they both concluded that all of her doubts seemed too far-fetched, she still can’t help but doubt it all. There is no need to, especially because Gilbert is not nearly good enough of an actor to pull off such a ruse.

“Anne,” Cole looks at her as her phone lights up once more.

_I said I won’t bother you, but are you okay? I feel stupid saying this but I’m worried, and I keep thinking about you, and now I can’t do my history essay_

“Aw, Anne,” Cole chuckles. “He can’t stop thinking of you.” Then he bites into a large chocolate muffin. All around the kitchen, surrounding the two teenagers, various muffins and cupcakes cover most of the available surfaces. Marilla has long ago left them to their own devices, already aware that when the two of them get into their baking spree, it is best to stay out of the general vicinity of the kitchen.

“Shut up, Cole.”

The phone on the counter buzzes once more, the screen lightning up.

_I don’t mean think thinking in some weird way, just like oh is Anne okay hopefully she’s not dead in a ditch_

_Are you dead in a ditch?_

_You probably wouldn’t answer if you were_

_Anne???_

“See,” the evasive girl points out, “he’s not thinking of me in a romantic way. He’s just worried I’m dead and then he’ll have to attend my funeral and act like he cares. Which,” she pauses to take a bite out of a lemon poppy seed muffin, her favourite, “he doesn’t.”

Cole laughs, “Denial looks very attractive on you, Anne.”

“Anything looks attractive on me,” she blurts out.

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

Anne smirks, “Haven’t you heard? I’m dating the hottest boy in school.”

“Who thinks you’re dead in a ditch…”

“Luckily, I’m not.”

Somewhere in the living room, the landline ringing interrupts Marilla and Matthew as they are intently watching HGTV. Anne ignores the ringing, as she and Cole continue placing muffins in their rightful containers. The landline ringing is always either someone asking about politics, or someone trying to sell pillows or mattresses or something that sounds awfully like a pyramid scheme. Marilla usually handles them well enough on her own.

“Put the apple cinnamon ones with the lemon poppy seed,” she instructs, as Cole is trying to make sense of her muffin-cupcake-organization rules.

“What _difference_ does it make which of these go together?”

Anne groans, “If you’re going to question my choices, then don’t help at all.”

“Geez,” Cole mutters, “I’m just curious.”

“Well, for the record,” says Anne as she is closing the plastic container with vanilla cupcakes, “because vanilla and coconut go well together, if you ask me. And then we have peanut butter and chocolate ones, and pure chocolate. Clearly, those two are a match. Which leaves us with apple cinnamon and lemon poppy seed.”

“Fair enough,” Cole nods. “I concur.”

“Good now pass me the—“

Marilla enters the kitchen holding the phone, a confused look on her face, “Anne?” She has the speaker pressed to her body, just below her shoulder, “It’s Gilbert. Your boyfriend?”

Cole bursts out laughing, as Anne’s face takes on an embarrassing shade of red.

“Wh- _what_?”

Marilla chuckles lightly, “Oh, come now, Anne. It’s all alright. I just wish you could have seen Matthew’s face when he picked up.”

“Oh, God,” Anne cries. “I will murder Gilbert Blythe.”

“Anne!” Marilla frowns at her. “Everything is okay. No need to feel embarrassed, we’ll talk later,” and—accompanied by the widest smile Anne has ever seen her wear—she hands her the phone.

“Hello?” Anne’s voice is weak and trembling. She can’t pinpoint whether it’s embarrassment at having been caught hiding the truth from Matthew and Marilla, or because she knew she should have replied to one of Gilbert’s texts. Preferably, the one he sent hours ago.

“Well, I sure am glad you’re alive,” he chuckles on the other side.

“Yep, that’s me, Anne… alive,” she nods, even though Gilbert can’t see her.

“You had me worried, Carr—“ Gilbert hesitates for a moment, then corrects himself, “Anne.”

“I’m not mad at you,” she blurts out, feeling so entirely horrible for acting like an immature child. It clearly did a number on Gilbert, for whatever reason, Anne can’t think of any. Instead she does her best to reassure him, “Really, I’m not. Not because of Carrots, or anything. Or the kiss.”

Across the counter from her Cole mouths _‘A kiss!?’_ , and then accompanies it with a wide, annoying grin.

“Oh, good to know, I guess…”

“What?”

“I don’t know, Anne, it’s stupid,” Gilbert starts as Anne makes her way out of the kitchen. Cole tugs on her hand, attempting to keep her in the room and get some more detail from the conversation. She tugs her hand away, and motions for Cole to continue putting away the baked goods.

“I bet it’s not as stupid as my thing.”

“It is, trust me.”

“I was just worried about you, and then,” Gilbert pauses, “then I caught myself thinking… Well, Anne _doesn’t_ have to tell me where she goes or what she does, we aren’t dating. But then I figured,” Anne can hear him sigh, and she hopes that the rest of the sentence isn’t going to be as nerve-wrecking as the short pause was. “Then I figured, that I sort of think you’re my closest friend now? Which is so weird because we’ve just started hanging out again, and sad because you would think I had other close friends… Anyway, I was worried, and you weren’t picking up, and it’s fine if you don’t think we’re close friends but you’re very chill… Carrots.”

“Wow, Gilbert Blythe,” Anne smiles softly, this time as glad as ever that he can’t see her. “You sure are a smooth talker.”

“That’s all?”

“And,” she pauses, just to give him a taste of that nerve-wrecking tension when all you can hear is the silence on the other side of the phone. “And I think you’re also pretty chill. And I accept your friendship.”

Gilbert chuckles on the other side, “Glad to hear that, Carrots. You know, sometimes you terrify me.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’re so… so unapologetically you, it’s impressive and intimidating.”

“Trust me,” Anne assures him, “I’m nowhere near intimidating. More like intimidated.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Ew, Gilbert, I would never agree with you.”

“Ouch, Carrots.”

“Also,” she says barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for disappearing on you. That was shitty of me, I just didn’t expect you would care that much.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Just,” Anne can feel tears pricking at her eyes, “It was just something Josie said to me.”

Gilbert lets out an exasperated sigh, this time filled with tension, “What did she do this time?”

“Nothing important, it just pushed a few well placed buttons, and I had to get away,” she explains. “I’ve been baking muffins and cupcakes with Cole the entire afternoon.”

“With Cole…” Gilbert hums.

“You can get one of each, if you like, as an apology for ignoring you today.”

“I’ll take that, yes,” he says, “I have to go now, Bash made dinner, and he’s awfully needy when it comes to complimenting his culinary skills.”

“Ooh, I’d love to judge his skills,” Anne regrets the words as soon as they spill out of her mouth.

“You should come over for dinner sometime,” Gilbert offers from the other side of the line, as she expected he would.

Anne bites her lip, she always gets herself in these situations, “No, it’s fine, I don’t have to.”

“No, no,” the boy interrupts her. “I want you to. In fact, I insist.”

“Okay, yeah,” somehow, she agrees with little to no fight. It’s easy with Gilbert, and Anne can’t remember why she even doubted him in the first place. Hell, she can’t even understand why she is so quick to trust him. It seems like everything about him is genuine and reassuring, like a warm, late summer afternoon.

“Good,” his voice is soft, “see you tomorrow, Carrots.”

Anne rolls her eyes, “See you, Gilbert.”

She keeps the phone pressed to her ear even as the faint beeps replace Gilbert’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hope you like it, it's late af here, and I've been proofreading and editing this for hours. If you want to follow me for some daily updates I usually talk about this on my tumblr (harveysbagel). Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment, all of you are very kind! I miss these two a lot, and will inevitably re-watch the entire show soon. 
> 
> Regarding future updates: I'll probably try to update once every two weeks, but I can't promise anything as we have some hard deadlines at work, and I might have to work overtime a lot :) (which sucks but hey money)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a test-drive chapter, I sort of have an idea of what I would want to do, it won't be a long fic. So, let me know if you're into it. I've been sick for the past few days so I've read all of To All The Boys I've Loved Before books... aaaand was in desperate need for more, so here we all are. 
> 
> I can't promise to update very often as work and life is a bitch, but I will do my best. :)


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